The Taishaku Kaiten
by Bottou-chan
Summary: Joker has his Elemental Weapon and costume before he joined with Kurei... this explains how he got them.
1. The Taishaku Kaiten

**The Taishaku Kaiten Part One**

[**Bottou-chan**][1]

[**My Page**][2]

A black-clothed ninja passed a long, heavy bundle to the Abbot. It was an oddly-shaped object, longer than either man was tall; wide at both ends but narrow in the middle. It was wrapped and bound securely in cloth bandages.

"Take care of this for us," said the ninja softly. "Keep it from falling into the wrong hands. It's no longer safe to keep such objects in the village... take care of it until its rightful master reappears."

The Abbot nodded. "It will be safe here, Ohka-sama," he said softly, holding the object tightly. "Like the others... we will safeguard them for you, no matter what, until one comes to claim them."

"I have no need to remind you it is of the utmost importance," Ohka said, and the Abbot could tell he was smiling grimly, even though a black cloth covered the bottom half of his face. "If any of these fall into the hands of the Oni... everything we've worked for will be for nothing."

The Abbot nodded. "The rumors we've heard of uprisings are true, then?"

Ohka nodded. "He's intimidated by us," he said sternly. "He's intimidated by the superiority of our minds, and the superiority of our weapons. He has convinced himself to exterminate us. We shall sacrifice ourselves, if needs be, for the benefit of the world. But he must not take a single one of our weapons in the process."

"Hopefully, he will not desecrate our peaceful monastery," answered the Abbot softly. "But I assure you, I and my descendants shall safeguard your property against harm." 

* * *

The tall young man moved slowly through the exhibits, carefully examining the printed program he clutched in one hand. Every so often, he'd stop completely, staring at a particular artifact ensconced in its case, reading the label over several times. He was paying extraordinarily good attention to every minute detail, noticed Ryusaki Nanami, and it made her curious.

"You seem very interested," she remarked, in a casual conversational tone. The young man looked startled, and grinned a fanged grin.

"Oi, you startled me," he said apologetically, and Nanami noticed he had a distinct Kansai accent. "But yes, it's quite captivating." He stared intently at a broken cooking pot, dating back 500 years to the Muromachi period.

"I'm glad you like it," smiled Nanami. "I helped create this exhibit, and I researched and dated many of these artifacts."

The young man seemed to take more interest in her now. "Did you?" he inquired kindly. "Well, it's a job well-done. How do you know, for instance, that this pot is 500 years old?"

"Pottery manufacturing technology, like other technologies, evolves through time. By looking at the finished product, we're able to tell something about its creators. This is a particularly fine example, and the tools and techniques used were remarkably advanced for its time. There was much care and skill put forth into this vessel, even though it was only common cookingware." Nanami broke off abruptly. "Ah, but I don't mean to bore you with the little details," she amended. "I can get a little carried away on my subject."

"Can you?" inquired the young man. "Well, it's good that you're enthused about something. You always need to have a passion in life to pursue." He had a strange faraway look in his eyes as he gazed off into a corner of the ceiling. At least, Nanami had the impression he did-- it was impossible to tell, as his eyes were obscured by long, girlish bangs and a baseball cap he was wearing. "Now, say, what can you tell me about this fine object?" He moved on and indicated a small stautette.

"That slightly pre-dates the cooking pot," said Nanami. "It seems to be some sort of Buddhist deity... from the same general area as the cooking pot before. You can tell by examining the particles and seeing how similar the makeup of the clay in the pot and the clay in the statuette are. These were all unearthed in the ruins of a Buddhist temple. I'd say by the end of the Azuchi-Momoyama Period, the temple had been systematically destroyed. However, these objects were buried in some underground passages. They were saved from looting because they had been hidden in these secret chambers. It's difficult to guess how long they had existed within the temple itself, but our rough guess would be most of these objects range in age from 600 to 400 years old."

"How very knowledgeable!" praised the young man. "And, if I may ask, what is your name?"

Nanami giggled. "I was just about to ask you the same thing. I'm Ryusaki Nanami."

"What a lovely name, Ryusaki-han. My name is Odokemono Hiroji," and he grinned fangedly. "Now, if you could tell me... this fabulously entertaining object lying in this case... what is it?"

"That seems to have been some kind of ceremonial staff," said Nanami, surveying the large, twisted, oddly-shaped object. "It's inscribed _Taishaku Kaiten_."

Hiroji gazed solemnly at it. The enormous eye at the top end seemed to bore into his very being. Something tugged at the edges of his memory....

"Did it do anything?" he asked, almost hesitantly. He pressed his hands down against the plexiglass barrier between him and it.

"Fingerprints," Nanami reminded him gently, and he hastily removed his hands. "_Do_ anything? I don't know. It was found, like many of the other objects here, in the ruins of an old Buddhist temple. Perhaps it was an obscure minor sub-cult? We really don't know."

Hiroji gazed into the eye of the Taishaku Kaiten. Suddenly, he found himself no longer gazing into the object, but rather, _looking at himself,_ as though through a stranger's eyes. At the same time, he _was_ still gazing earnestly into the eye of the Taishaku Kaiten, listening to Nanami prattling on about what good condition it was in for having endured what the object must have gone through.

Nanami was completely oblivious to this second Hiroji standing next to her. It was as though his second self was invisible... invisible...

And suddenly, this second self was no longer staring at his first self. His second self was suddenly... somewhere else. _Someone _else. He stood on a porch, in front of an old-fashioned house, in an old-fashioned rural village. A balding man with long, straggly greasy hair held the strange-looking staff lovingly in his hands, turning it, admiring the feel.

"Look here! My latest creation," the man said. He looked up into Hiroji's face, beaming proudly like a new father. However, Hiroji felt vaguely apprehensive as he watched him. There was a wild look in his eye, and he showed too many teeth while smiling.

"What does it do?" Hiroji found himself inquiring in a voice not his own.

"Tawakeru-san, surely you jest!" laughed the wild-eyed man. "I've slaved night and day for weeks on end... hardly eating... hardly sleeping... not until this seed from my imagination took root and sprouted into reality. This is the Taishaku Kaiten, an Elemental Weapon which can manipulate mass and matter within a certain range. And I have made it specially with you in mind. It is yours."

"Kaima-san! I couldn't possibly... this is too special," objected Hiroji. He longed to ask, _How do I know your name? How do you know me? Why do you call me Tawakeru?_ But somehow, he was passively present, invading someone else's mind and body, watching a moment in someone else's life.

Kaima shook his head firmly. "No, I insist," he said, drawing himself up to his full height and striking the Taishaku Kaiten firmly on the ground. "This weapon is yours. It was created for you. Long before I had fully made this exquisite object a reality, I knew that it was destined for your hands. It cries out for you. Long after you and I are dead in our present forms, it shall return to your safekeeping."

Hiroji felt his body shaking as Tawakeru laughed heartily. "What a pleasant fairy-tale!" he laughed. Kaima handed the staff over to him, and Tawakeru raised it up for a closer inspection. This allowed Hiroji a better view of it. It looked about the same as it had in the museum, only shinier and not as tarnished-looking. _A result of the age,_ Hiroji found himself thinking. _Perhaps there's a way to restore it to its original condition? I wonder what the Museum would say..._

Tawakeru ran his fingers lightly over the top of it, and Hiroji could feel the gnarled, twisted metal at the top. It was pointed, like a trident shape, with a disturbingly wide-open eye staring from the base of the three prongs. Beneath the eye, the metal changed from being gnarled to being two smoothly entwined components making up the handle. The base had a blade, cerrated towards the end, and a stabbing point.

"It looks quite deadly," grinned Tawakeru, running his hands carefully over its surface. "And it feels _sooooo_ right."

_It does,_ agreed Hiroji wholeheartedly. Touching the metal almost seemed to bring back memories... his memories? Or someone else's? They were very hazy....

"Give it a try," suggested Kaima, smiling in wolfish anticipation.

Tawakeru hefted the trident into the air, swinging it around experimentally.

_You handle it so awkwardly! _Hiroji found himself thinking impatiently. _I could do a much better job..._ It took him a moment to wonder why he felt that way.

"See that heavy black kettle over there?" suggested Kaima, indicating with a lazy finger. "Catch the handle with one prong of the trident. Focus your energy on it as you do so."

"That's more like a cauldron," commented Tawakeru, staring at it dubiously. "It has to weigh at least a hundred pounds. It's cast iron."

"More, actually," corrected Kaima. "But go ahead, give it a try."

Tawakeru stared at the kettle, making up his mind, focussing his energy on this new task at hand. Hiroji found himself holding his breath-- if he had breath to hold. _I don't seem to be breathing,_ he thought, but the realization wasn't particularly frightening. He seemed to be only _existing,_ yet not actually alive. If he had a lip to bite, Hiroji would have been gnawing on it nervously. Waiting... waiting...

Tawakeru snagged the ring at the top of the cauldron, and a brilliant flash of light momentarily surrounded them. They watched in fascination as Tawakeru easily slung it halfway across the courtyard, and it landed with a heavy, dull thump, rolling several more feet before it finally came to a stop.

_No way!_ Hiroji found himself thinking excitedly. Tawakeru just flung that cast-iron pot at least thirty feet, as though it was a mere toy! He gazed in admiration at the Taishaku Kaiten, and suddenly wanted it for himself.

"Amazing," gasped Tawakeru, oblivious to the covetous thoughts of the Other Presence who currently shared his mind. "Truly amazing. Kaima-san, you have outdone yourself this time!"

"I always strive to make bigger and better weapons!" the other man boasted. "Weapons are to kill and massacre. The Hokage will thrive because of my work."

_The Hokage,_ thought Hiroji absently. _I wonder what they are... are _**_they_**_ Hokage? Maybe it's their clan name?_ That seemed to make sense.

"Nonsense," said another man, who had been watching the goings-on from a slight distance. He now approached them. "Weapons are to protect and save people."

"Deal with the facts, Koku-san," retorted Kaima, crossing his arms in annoyance. "I haven't seen your latest masterpiece yet. But there can be no sugar-coating of the work we do. We create weapons. Weapons kill. People have weapons to kill. If you do not wish for the devices you create to be used for such purposes, you have no business creating them."

"Ah, Kaima-san, I'm too young to retire!" laughed Koku, who was somewhat smaller and shorter than the other creator. He had thick, beetling eyebrows; wild, spiky hair; and pouty, frowning lips. "Besides, if I was to give up doing what I love, you'd have no one to keep you on your toes."

The two launched into a debate which Hiroji had a sneaking suspicion had been verbally battled out many times before. Even Tawakeru, after a few moments, said very softly, "I think I'll go practice with this thing now," and scurried away into the neighboring woods.

_I want a try,_ thought Hiroji plainatively, but he had no control over this person's body. And just as suddenly, he found himself staring at glass cases through the trees. And there were fewer and fewer trees, and more and more cases. And, with a shudder, he returned to himself, finding the Taishaku Kaiten, looking rather dingy and tarnished, lying in the case in front of him.

"Are you okay?" asked Nanami, looking at him in concern.

"Ah, gomen! I was just admiring that... exquisite... object. Taishaku Kaiten, you called it?"

Nanami nodded. "Yes. Are you sure you're all right?"

"Do you know anything about the Hokage?" he asked suddenly.

"The Hokage?" Nanami scratched her head and thought. "No, not that I can... oh, wait. To the best of my knowledge, that was a relatively minor clan of ninja. Their village has been excavated, a few miles from the ruins of the monastery where these objects were uncovered. Nothing of interest was found there, but the date of the village's destruction roughly corresponds to the date of the temple's destruction."

Hiroji took her hands in his and smiled charmingly, "How about we go off and find a nice place for dinner?" he suggested. "All this museum-going has made me hungry... and you are such a font of information! If my professor had been as brilliant as you, I wouldn't have slept through my history classes at the University."

Nanami laughed. "What the heck," she agreed cheerfully. "Why not? It's kind of weird, everything happening like this, but I'm feeling amazingly agreeable to the thought of having a nice dinner with such a handsome man as yourself." She smiled playfully at him, and he offered his arm. She slid her arm through his, entwining his fingers in her own, and they walked towards the exit.

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/EnchantedForest/Dell/2329/recca/recca.htm



	2. Default Chapter Title

**The Taishaku Kaiten Part Two**

[**Bottou-chan**][1]

[**My Page**][2]

Nanami entered her apartment, carefully balancing two heavy grocery bags in her arms. She kicked the door shut behind her, and crossed into the kitchen to unburden herself. The light on her answering machine was blinking.

When she pushed the button, the machine delivered its message with a click and a whir. "Nanami-han, Hiroji here. I had a great time the other night," came a cheerful, good-natured voice. "We've got to do it again sometime, ne? How does Friday sound...?" He went on for a little while longer, and Nanami leaned contentedly against the counter.

_He had a good time! He likes me!_ she thought exuberantly, inwardly scolding herself for acting like such an adolescent. Still, she reasoned, it's always nice to be appreciated. 

* * *

For Nanami, the next several weeks passed quickly. Hiroji had everything she was looking for in a man. He was smart and witty, and never seemed to be in a bad mood. He was exceptionally interested in whatever she had to say, especially when she brought the conversation around to obscure ninja tribes and the material culture they had left behind. Other men she had dated had given up on her when they had realized there was more to her than just a pretty face. Yet Hiroji seemed to appreciate her intelligence. He was sweet and thoughtful, often picking up little gifts for her which he thought she might like. _Almost too good to be true!_ she'd often thought happily to herself, clasping his arm as they would take a walk in the park or go out and have fun.

He seemed especially disappointed when the exhibit came down and was packed away.

"It's not going to another museum, is it?" he asked her, worriedly, as they sat at a sidewalk cafe having lunch one Sunday afternoon.

"You've seen it ten thousand times!" Nanami laughed playfully. "Every time you come to fetch me after work, I see you hanging around the cases. Especially around that case with the Taishaku Kaiten in it. I don't know what you see in it... I get this strange feeling around it. Like it's evil. I don't like the big, staring eye." She frowned.

"It's only a staff," laughed Hiroji nonchalantly. "But it's unique, and I feel strangely drawn to it." He shrugged. "But perhaps what's even more mysterious is why you're so drawn to me. You're so pretty, and you know so much-- I don't know why you waste your time hanging around someone like me--" and he kissed her fingers very softly.

"You, my friend, are dangerous. You know that?" she asked, her eyes laughing as she leaned over and kissed him on the tip of his nose. "You know exactly how to get what you want. But in answer to your question," she said, becoming more serious, "The artifacts are going to be taken off to a private lab for study. A grant was obtained from the Kokom Foundation which will allow a group of private scholars to do a more detailed analysis of the objects and their relation to the era."

"The Kokom Foundation?" inquired Hiroji, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. He didn't care much for coffee, especially with his lunch.

Nanami nodded. "It's headed by Mori Kouran," she explained. "His son, Kurei, happens to be a connosseur of artifacts from that time period. I hear that he has quite a private collection of his own. So with those kinds of connections, it was a piece of cake to be granted funding for this project." She bit into her sandwich and chewed thoughtfully.

"Where do you get all this information?" Hiroji laughed. "I never read about this kind of thing in the newspapers."

Nanami waved her hand nonchalantly. "It depends what circles you run in," she explained. "They're very well-known in our field because of the support they have shown concerning fieldwork, exhibition, and research. It might only get a quick blurb in the paper, but believe me, they're major players in the arts community."

"So when do my little friends get shipped away, never to be seen by the public again?" asked Hiroji casually.

"In two weeks, on Monday morning," said Nanami, thinking hard. "It's right after the Museum's big fundraiser. Speaking of which, would you be interested in supporting us? We're having a costume ball, and the tickets are kind of pricy, but it's all for a good cause."

Hiroji considered. "To support the arts-- why not?" he smiled. "And, I assume, you'll go with me?"

"I'll have to be schmoozing the big donors part of the time," cautioned Nanami, "But I think I'll be able to swing it so that I can mix a little pleasure with my business." She smiled brilliantly at him, and he returned her smile with equal warmth.

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/EnchantedForest/Dell/2329/recca/recca.htm



	3. Default Chapter Title

**The Taishaku Kaiten Part Two**

[**Bottou-chan**][1]

[**My Page**][2]

Nanami stood by the refreshments table, quietly sipping her punch and keeping an eye on the partygoers. They were beginning to steadily flow in, and the hall echoed with laughter, voices, and the hired orchestra. The exhibition hall had been cleared of cases, so there was plenty of room for the ball to occur. The next exhibit, concerning Ming Dynasty pottery, would begin installment on Monday. "Hirjoi-kun! Is that you?" gasped, as a costumed figure approached her and gave an elaborate bow. She stepped back in admiration. "If it wasn't for your height, I'd never have recognized you!" She herself was dressed as a traditional Japanese princess, kimono and all. A small, thin mask covered the upper part of her face, but she was easily recognizable.

Hiroji, on the other hand, was completely unrecognizable. Something like a hood, drawing up behind his head in two sharp points, completely obscured most of his face. Only his trademark fanged, mischevious grin could identify him. His costume had enormous puffed sleeves, with black and white stripes. He wore enormous gloves, one white, one black. Even his leggings had one leg black, one leg white. It was a baffling costume. A costume, a well-made costume, nonetheless-- but what was he trying to be...?

"I'm a joker, ha ha!" laughed Hiroji, producing a playing card from thin air and handing it to her. Sure enough, he matched the costume on the card exactly.

"Where'd you get this from?" she asked admiringly. "It looks like it took a lot of work!"

"I made it myself," said Hiroji, pretending to look put-out.

"You're kidding. You can sew?" asked Nanami dubiously.

Hiroji turned around slowly, to allow her to admire him from all angles. "It comes in handy, ne?"

"I have difficulty even with buttons," admitted Nanami. "I could never do something that looks this great!"

"You look cute in a kimono," smiled Hiroji, wrapping her in a warm hug. "You make a great princess. You can be my Hime?"

Nanami smiled up at him. "All right. I'll be your hime." She attempted to give him a kiss, but gave a little cry and jumped back, rubbing her nose. "Ow! Your hood! It poked me! How am I supposed to kiss you like that?"

"Try it from this angle," suggested Hiroji, turning his face slightly, and she planted a demure little kiss on his cheek.

"Better," she smiled. "Oh, look. There's Mori-san. I guess I'd better remember my job and what I'm here for... I'll catch up with you later!" She smiled and waved.

"Ganbatte!" he said encouragingly, watching as Nanami wove her way through a throng of costumed attendees. After she was out of sight, he slipped quietly through a nearby set of doors marked "Employees Only". He had been through the museum countless times, while meeting with Nanami, and knew the rabbit-warren of rooms and corridors flawlessly. Everyone was going to be at the party in the main exhibition hall. No one would be in the collections room, way at the back of the museum.

He punched in the access code to let himself into collections storage. The door unlocked itself, and he slipped in. Ah, there they were... a large row of carefully packed boxes lined one side of the room. They were awaiting shipment. Well, they wouldn't get shipped off... not just yet. Not before he had a chance to get what he had come for.

It was easy to tell which box the Taishaku Kaiten was in. Its size was difficult to disguise. From a pocket beneath a flap in his outfit, he pulled a penknife, and easily slit through the packing tape. He dug through the archival packing materials and found the Taishaku Kaiten's pole. It felt so good beneath his fingers... so natural... so familiar, and yet he had only felt it once before. And had it really been him who had felt it? Or was it someone else?

He lifted it and swung it around easily, careful not to bump any walls or shelves in the narrow space. Yes, this had been the object in his dream. Or was it a dream? He had been awake. Hiroji couldn't explain it, and didn't care to try. All that mattered was that the Taishaku Kaiten was in his hands at this moment. How he had waited for it! Anticipated! Yearned!

"What do you think you're doing." It was a statement, not a question. The voice was so low, so soft, so dangerous, Hiroji was surprised he could hear it through his hood. He jumped guiltily. There, in the doorway, stood Nanami, her arms folded and an unreadable look on her face.

"Put it back," she commanded softly, taking a step towards him.

This was no time for games.

Hiroji's amiacable expression disappeared and he pointed the trident end towards her. "Don't come any closer," he warned her, in a matching tone.

"What are you going to do? Hurt me?" Nanami laughed bitterly. The cheerful, loving, happy look on her face which he had last seen her with was nowhere to be found. "You've already done that. What do you think you're doing here?"

"This is mine," said Hiroji, brandishing the Taishaku Kaiten in her direction once more. "It's mine, and no one can stop me. I have it now."

"Put it down," said Nanami in her soft, dangerous voice. "You have no business being in this part of the museum. Put that back in its box and get out. Get out of the museum. And," she added, her voice rising in volume and wobbling a little, "And get out of my life." She was fighting back tears.

Hiroji shook his head. "No. You get out. You leave here. You forget you ever saw this, and it will be better for you that way."

"Don't make me have to drag security into this," Nanami said, folding her arms sternly, as though scolding a small child. "You and your silly little toy. That's all it is to you. A shiny object that you want. That's more important to you than my feelings. You never cared about me, did you?" The tears were welling up and she was choking on the words now. "All you did was use me. You used me so you could have your shiny toy. Well, I'm not going to let you."

She lunged forward at him, her angry hands clawing for him, and it took a good deal of maneuvering for Hiroji to prevent her from impaling herself on the pointy end of the trident as she did so. He turned it so she was caught in a fork, and with one easy movement, he scooped her up and sent her flying through the air. She hit a wall with a dull thud and slumped to the floor, motionless.

Hiroji stared at the weapon in his hands. He hadn't expected to do _that_. Obviously, the Taishaku Kaiten's powers hadn't diminished a bit in all these years. It had reacted, almost on its own accord, changing mass as it done so in Tawakeru's hands so long ago. It would take a bit of experimentation before he could adjust himself and get a good feel for the weapon, but ohhhh! The rush!

He wandered over to where Nanami was, gazing down indifferently upon her. How could such a brilliant woman be so easily fooled by a few well-picked flattering words? Ah, well. She was still breathing, so she wouldn't be up and about anytime soon. A nagging voice in his head told Hiroji that it would be dangerous to let her live. She was the only one who could identify him as the culprit. He stared solemnly at the weapon's base blade and stabbing point. Deadly at both ends...

Ah, but where would the fun in that be? She hadn't even a sporting chance against him in the first place. Killing her now would be like swatting a fly on a window, and just as meaningful. No, let Ryusaki Nanami continue to exist. It would be Odokemono Hiroji who would have to find himself a new identity. It would be more fun that way.

He snapped the lights off, shut the door behind himself, and exited through the back stairway, whistling cheerfully to himself.

   [1]: mailto:koganeikaoru@hotmail.com
   [2]: http://www.geocities.com/EnchantedForest/Dell/2329/recca/recca.htm



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